A Marriage Made in Somewhere
by Dire Banshee
Summary: <html><head></head>Heaven and Hell are warring kingdoms that have finally settled on a Peace Treaty.  To make sure it sticks Prince Dean of the Demons and Prince Castiel of the Angels are to wed, neither are thrilled about it. slash and het mostly D/C with some sub-pairings</html>
1. Chapter 1

**Ch. 1**

**Disclaimer: not mine, I'm only worshipping at the Altar of Kripke**

"This is hellhound shit!" Dean snarled at his father, his wings flared high in aggression.

"Watch your tone, Dean!" John warned, his own wings arching. "You're not too old to put over my knee, boy."

Dean grit his teeth and glowered but folded his wings to his back, the membranes making a soft sound like silk sliding together.

"I don't get why we're even thinking of allying with those feathered freaks when they're the one's who've kept this war going as long as it has," he argued in a more reasonable tone; John Winchester wasn't a demon who made idle threats after all.

"That was the old king," Mary explained to her eldest. "This new one wants peace just as much as we do."

"Try to understand, Dean," his father continued. "We've been loosing people, good people, to this war for far too long and now that we're being offered a way out of it I'm going to take it… even if it means marrying you _and_ Sam to Angels."

Dean's eyes widened.

"Dad!"

"John!" Mary scolded at the same time. "Sam is already betrothed."

"You can't take Sam and Jess away from each other!" Dean argued.

John held up a hand to hold off his wife and son's protestations.

"I know," he replied. "And I won't. All I'm saying is that peace comes at a price and the royals are the ones who have to pay it. I won't force you into this, Dean, but I have the welfare of a kingdom to think of and, like it or not, so do you."

SPNSPNSPNSPN 

"I won't do it."

Michael spared a glance up from the decree Balthazar had placed in front of him to look his younger brother in the eye.

"This isn't a negotiation, Castiel," he said before returning his attention to the paper in front of him. Their father had left quite a mess for his eldest to sort out, too busy trying to bring their neighboring kingdom under Angelic rule to notice how close his own subjects were to rebellion.

"It should be," the newest Crown Prince snarled, his forever messy silver and onyx feathers puffed up in anger. "Especially when _I_ will be the one tied to one of those animals for the remainder of my existence!"

Michael sighed, setting his pen down and motioning for the others to leave them for the moment. Balthazar gathered up the documents already bearing Michael's signature and royal seal before slipping out of the room behind Lucifer and Gabriel, Castiel's personal guards, who took up stations on either side of the door. Michael tried to massage away the headache he could feel forming; he'd tried his best to keep Castiel away from their father and his _anyone-who's-not-an-angel-is-dirt_ ideals after the death of their mother but it had been his job as the eldest child to take up her place as the General of Heaven's massive army. Though he'd only been 26 at the time Angels were raised as soldiers from the cradle and he'd been ready for the responsibility but it had kept him away from the palace which had left Castiel open to Zachariah's influence more than Michael, or their mother, would have wanted. His brother had only been nine when the Queen had disappeared, their sister, Joanna, not even six months. She, at least, had been left in relative peace, raised mostly by nannies and wet nurses who had been hand-picked by Queen Ellen and so shared her ideals of peace and equality with their neighboring kingdom.

This marriage might actually do his brother some good… if his spouse could refrain from killing him, that is.

"They're not animals, Castiel," Michael said, not for the first time. "They are simply a different race who moved to defend themselves from Father's attempts to wipe them out. They want peace, brother, and if I do nothing else during my time as King I _will_ do this."

SPNSPNSPNSPN

The wedding was to take place in Purgatory, a neutral city/state that had formed along one of the borders shared by Heaven and Hell around the time Zachariah had taken Heaven's throne. The two royal families had arrived at the citadel in the center of the city/state a week before the wedding of the two Princes was to take place so they could all get to know each other.

Dean fidgeted in the overly formal clothing his mother had insisted on as he surveyed the banquet hall. It seemed to be filled with every Lord, Lady, and dignitary either kingdom could boast of and the prince found himself feeling mildly claustrophobic as yet another Sir Something-or-other clapped him on the shoulder and wished him well, this one with a lewd wink that made Dean grind his teeth together. Ducking into an out of the way corner, he watched the races mingle.

Michael, the new King of Heaven, and his Queen, a fiery-haired female named Anna, were speaking to Dean's parents at one end of the room. When they'd first met, the Angels had welcomed the prince and his family like they were already related, apologizing profusely for the former King's actions and stating that the pair had disapproved of the War from the very beginning but had been unable to do anything about it until the old King's death in battle several months previous.

Michael was young for a King, only 46 though he didn't look a day over 25. It was a trait shared by Demons and Angels; they would age like the humans that lived on the far edge of the Western Continent until they hit their mid-twenties, then their aging would slow to a snail's pace. Dean hadn't yet been able to see it in himself, being only 27, but his parents were both well into their nineties and were youthful enough to pass for his siblings.

Both Royal pairs were dressed in their finest, as the occasion apparently called for. His mother was gorgeous, as always, in a floor-length gown of bright yellow that brought out her golden hair, with an underskirt of molten orange that almost seemed to glow like she'd dipped herself in a forge and formed the liquid metals into clothes for herself. A dainty crown of obsidian rested on her brow, the crown swooping down to a point that rested on her smooth brow, a ruby the size of an eye cradled within the triangle and gleaming in the light. Beside her, King John was dressed in the military uniform used for ceremonies; black breeches and a black over shirt cut in strategic places to allow the red of the undershirt to show through, each mark telling those who knew how to interpret them of an enemy slain, an honor achieved, a comrade saved or avenged. The Demon King's crown was as understated as that of his Queen, a simple circlet of the same volcanic glass with its own ruby glittering in the center; though where Mary's dipped down to grace her forehead John's curved up on either side of the central gem into two curling horns. Both of his parents wore glittering chains of silver draped across the backs of their wings, held on by caps of the same metal set over the wickedly sharp spines that extended from the wings of all Demons; one at each elbow joint and another protruding from the bottom ends of the 'finger' bones the delicate membranes of their fleshy wings stretched between.

The Angels were a sight as well. The Queen, Anna, was in a gown of emerald green that brought out the color of her eyes, with an underskirt of sapphire blue, much in the same style as Queen Mary's gown, but that's where the similarities ended. The Angel Queen's crown was made of silver and looked to be made of one continuous strand of metal dipping and curling across her brow before looping around to the back of her head and forming a delicate halo behind her. A sapphire teardrop roughly the size as Mary's ruby hung from the center of Anna's crown to rest just above her eyebrows. King Michael's crown was nearly identical but more masculine in design, the silver wire thicker and the sapphire in the middle surrounded by the metal instead of hanging free, though the same halo rose behind his head as well. His clothing was the opposite of Anna's, his undershirt the green of her gown and his over shirt the jeweled blue. It was cut out in places, like King John's, though it seemed to be for decoration rather than commemoration as far as Dean could tell. The Angels had their wings adorned as well, though Dean wasn't quite sure what to make of the sparkling gems that seemed to be either tied or sewn onto the feathers. The Queen's wings were red as her hair and tipped with gold. It looked like metal but Dean had been told that Angels of royal blood tended to have metallic or jewel-toned colors on their feathers. King Michael's wings were a dark navy blue, so dark they were almost black, the tips of his feathers striped with double V's of a sapphire blue that matched his over shirt and glittered when they caught the light.

A familiar laugh caught his attention and Dean's eyes swung to Lady Jessica, his brother's betrothed, and found her in an animated conversation with Princess Joanna, or Jo as she insisted on being called. The Angel Princess was Sam's age and didn't appear to share the prejudices of Prince Castiel, who had yet to make an appearance, as she'd brought one of her wings around and was letting Jess run curious fingers over the tan and gold feathers. In return, Jessica curved one of her own wings between the two to show off the delicate gold chains spanning the silken flesh, held on by small rings, not solid caps, which slipped over her spines. She would only be allowed the caps once she and Sam were closer to their wedding. Marriage wasn't something taken lightly in Demonic society so it was frowned upon, nearly to the point of being forbidden, for couples to cover their spines any sooner than a week before the wedding, allowing each partner a chance to back out because, for Demons, there was no such thing as divorce. At this point in the process only Sam and Jessica's near-constant proximity to each other, and the chains themselves, marked them as a Courting Pair, though Dean couldn't see either of them backing out. The two were so far gone on each other that it was almost sickening to watch.

Dean's own spines were capped completely with silver, the jingling chains made of the same, the glittering metal contrasting brightly against the traditional black and red of his pre-nuptial garments and signaling, to other demons at least, that he was off the market, permanently. He'd never worn the gold chains, never met anyone he'd wanted to give them to either, and to suddenly find himself capped with silver was enough to make his stomach churn. Plucking the plain obsidian circlet from his head Dean ran a hand through his short hair, swallowing hard. By the Shades in the Underworld, why had he agreed to do this?

"There's the blushing bride," an obnoxiously cheerful voice announced and Dean slit his eyes open to glare at the newest addition to his personal guard detail.

"Fuck off, Crowley," he growled. The annoying demon had been sent to him from his grandfather, Samuel. He'd been told that the soldier was both crafty and deadly, a combination that could come in handy if the Angels ever tried something, but Dean had a feeling the Hades Demon had been sent away just to get him out of Samuel's hair.

A great many of the residents of the former kingdom of Hades, which had been joined to Hell with Mary and John's marriage, still saw themselves as separate from the rest of Hell's residents and quite a few took personal pride in being as annoying as mortally possible.

Crowley smirked, snagging a glass of Hellfire Vodka from a passing servant and took a swallow, "Nah, you'd miss me."

"Where's your keeper?" Dean asked, scanning the crowded hall for Azazel, the guard who had been assigned Dean's safe-keeping since the prince's birth.

"You know," Crowley answered, taking another deep swallow. "Around."

Dean rolled his eyes and pushed off of the wall as his father motioned him over, slipping through the crowd to his parents' sides. The older Demon was never far off but seemed to get a perverse sort of pleasure out of making Dean suffer the new guard's company. Dean was beginning to regret all of those pranks he'd pulled on the other Demon when he'd been growing up and wondered, not for the first time, exactly why Meg had to choose _now_ to settle down with Alastair and raise a litter of babies when she'd been perfectly content to string him along the entirety of Dean's remembered life. He was being punished, he just knew it.

Tugging on Sam's golden chains as he came up beside his brother, Dean offered his arm to Princess Jo which she took as Jessica slipped her own around Sam's and the four joined the Kings and Queens who were moving to the head of the banquet table. Azazel took up his customary position by the wall behind Dean's chair and the Prince couldn't hold back his smirk as the older Demon snatched the glass of Hellfire from Crowley and smacked the Hades Demon upside the head.

The Cupid who would be doing the actual ceremony had joined the royals at the head of the table. As far as Dean could tell, the pudgy, overly happy Angel seemed to be a mixture of priest and matchmaker and far too hung up on love to be entirely sane. Also, he seemed to want to hug _everybody_, which the Angels all took in stride but Dean just found awkward as fuck. The Cupid wasn't the only new face Dean discovered as the four of them joined his parents and Jo's brother and sister-in-law.

The Angel looked to be Dean's age, which meant he could be anywhere between 25 and 225, and was obviously royalty if the obsidian black, metallic silver tipped feathers of his wings were anything to go by. He was shorter than Dean but not by much and dressed in the traditional white and sky-blue garments of Angel marriage attire, a plain silver circlet was set atop his head and trying its best to tame the dark flyaway locks that made him look like he'd just stumbled out of some maid's bedchamber. Brilliant blue eyes locked with Dean's own green as Michael smiled a moved forward to wrap a brotherly arm around the new Angel.

"Prince Dean," the King of Heaven said. "I'd like to introduce you to your intended; my brother, the Crown Prince Castiel."


	2. Chapter 2

**Ch. 2**

**Disclaimer: see chapter one**

Dean didn't miss the way the Angel Prince stared down his nose at the Demon's offered hand, or whatever Michael did behind his brother's back that made the younger male jump and glare at the King before extending his own hand.

"It's… good to meet you, Dean," he said at length, voice like gravel.

"Yeah," Dean replied, "You, too."

Michael smiled at the civility being shown and clapped Cas on the back before motioning to the waiting chairs.

"Shall we?" he asked before guiding his Queen to her seat at one side of the table.

The others moved to follow the Angel King's lead but not before Dean jerked his folded wings a few inches above his head in an _Are you serious?_ gesture to his father. John sent his eldest an apologetic sweep of wing but his eyes said that the wedding was still on so Dean would just have to make the best of it. Mary's look was more sympathetic and Dean knew that if he raised enough of a fuss that she would find a way out of this thing for him. It was tempting, incredibly so, but Dean scrounged up a carefree smile and shook his head; he'd deal, he always did. There were two chairs at the head of the table reserved for the guests of honor and there was a brief bit of confusion as both he and the Angel Prince attempted to take the king's traditional seat on the right. This was something Dean hadn't thought about, or, if he was being entirely honest, had tried hard _not_ to think about; which one of them would take on which role as a mated pair, not only in their leadership responsibilities but in the bedchamber as well?

Demons were notoriously bi-sexual so Dean had fooled around with males and females alike but he'd never actually coupled with any of them. As the Crown Prince of his people he couldn't run the risk of bringing an illegitimate child before his parents and a male lover would have expected to have the needs of his family met, like any honorable Demon would do for his submissive partner, not something the Prince was willing to do for someone not tied to him through marriage. He'd feel guilty as fuck if it didn't work out and a whole family suffered because of it. Dean couldn't even fathom the other way around, his station not allowing him to bow to any male other than a King, and, seeing as how the only Kings in the area were his dad and his grandfather, _that_ wasn't going to happen, but he'd had dalliances, knew how to bring pleasure with his hands and his mouth and had received pleasure in the same ways; he was no virgin in that sense but quite untouched in others. Dean had always assumed he would be the dominant partner but had no idea what the Angel's views on the subject were, what Castiel expected of their union and what their people's expected of them both.

Castiel was watching him silently, piercing blue eyes seeming to stare into his very soul, and Dean realized that everyone was waiting on them. In the interest of getting to the food, Dean moved to the side and allowed Castiel to take the king's seat, only because his family members were all seated on that side of the table, while Dean took the seat nearest his father. He felt a swell of pride when his father brushed a wing against Dean's own, silently telling him that he'd handled the situation diplomatically, like he'd been raised to do but didn't always follow. Pasting on a cocky grin that had John rolling his eyes, Dean leaned back in his chair as the Cupid stood to give the blessing.

"I'm sure I'm not alone in saying that I never thought this day would come," the priest said, beaming at those gathered. "To see not only peace come once more to Heaven and Hell, but to see the two kingdoms joined together in the best of ways."

He turned to look at Dean and Castiel with soft, dewy eyes and Dean prayed to the All-Father that the Angel didn't start crying, this was awkward enough as it was. There were murmurs of approval from the crowd as the Cupid continued.

"I would like us all to raise our glasses to the two who wished for peace enough to make this day possible, Prince Dean and Prince Castiel; may the All-Father smile upon your union and bless it. Who knows? This may be a Love Match in the making."

The Cupid raised his cup of Divinity, an Angelic wine only brought out for weddings, or funerals, or births, or coronations, or… actually, whenever something 'special' happened, and toasted the two Princes as those gathered did the same, with well-wishes and amused chuckles for the Cupid's words. Dean felt his face heating and he attempted to sink down in his chair but a swift kick to the ankle from his mother's dainty foot had the Demon Prince sitting correctly again. A glance to the side showed Prince Castiel's eyes trained on his plate, his hands in his lap though Dean could see his fingers picking restlessly at the elaborate embroidery on the tablecloth in front of him.

Dean could feel eyes on him without even looking up and bumped his shoulder against Castiel's. The Angel blinked over at him and Dean pasted on a grin, raising his own glass of Hellfire.

"Smile, dude," he spoke low. "Everybody's lookin'."

True to his formal upbringing, Castiel seemed to snap out of his contemplation of his fate and raised his own glass to mimic Dean, even managing a small smile.

"That's the spirit," Dean muttered as the two clinked glasses and drank to the cheers of the gathered nobles. If either of them needed a refill afterwards, no one said a word.

The procession of food began soon after, more food than Dean had seen in one place in his entire life, and seemed to be made up of both Princes' favorites. Dean spotted some well-known fare - a platter of burgers, patties of ground up meat, from a creature called a cow that the humans in the West raised, placed between two small loaves of bread that were quite popular with all social classes in Hades where Dean had spent most of his years growing up and steaming baskets of cut up potatoes that had been seasoned and dipped in boiling oil until they were soft on the inside and crunchy on the outside, as well as several delicacies of Hell and her territories. Whole firebirds, still covered in the scale-like feathers that protected them from the intense heat of their lava-bed homes, sulfur boar stuffed with the sweet flesh of the prickly-shelled pom'a gran't fruit, tiny frost dragons from the farthest reaches of Hel, Hell's semi-frozen neighboring kingdom, and their larger, fire-breathing cousins, cooked whole and swimming in a soupy paste made from ground up chilies; Dean's mouth watered at the sight. Then, the Angels' traditional fare was brought out.

Dean could hear his brother, the giant nerd, explaining to Lady Jessica what each of the odd-looking dishes were and Dean found himself listening in. If he was going to be living with Castiel for the rest of his life he'd need to know what some of this stuff was anyway. They apparently grew things big over in Angel-land because each dish needed at least two servers to carry them out, sometimes more. The first dish was in a bowl almost a big as a bath tub, a creature that seemed to be made almost entirely of tentacles, a newly hatched kraken according to Sam, swimming in a soot-black broth, the tentacles arranged to drape artfully over the sides of the huge bowl. Dean eyed the thing warily as it was set down near the head of the table and couldn't resist poking at the nearest tentacle with the tines of his fork. Castiel gave him an odd look and Dean set his fork down, but kept an eye on the bowl.

A round of applause from many of the gathered Angels drew the Demon Prince's attention to the next dish being carted out. It was an egg, but it was the biggest egg Dean had ever seen. Easily as tall as Sam, the egg took three servers to cart the three legged platter it rested on toward the table.

"It's a Roc egg," he heard Sam whisper excitedly to Jessica. "They only serve this during extremely special occasions because it's so dangerous to raid the nests. They let the egg incubate until it's only a week away from hatching and then boil it."

Dean blinked at his brother, certain he couldn't have heard that right, but Sam looked completely sincere. A loud _crack_ broke through the din of excited chatter and Dean returned his attention to the servers, one of whom was taking an ornate hammer and chisel to the massive shell, slowly working his way around until the other two could lift the top portion of shell away. Inside was a fully formed, cooked, Roc chick in a broth of its own egg juices. Dean could only blink at the sight, the chili sauce dragon suddenly not looking as good as it had only moments before. A small sound to his left had Dean looking at his father who, by the look on his face, seemed to share his eldest son's sentiments exactly. By the time the gigantic spider was wheeled out and cut open to reveal a mass of shinning black eggs Dean was about ready to cut and run, peace treaty be damned, but two things happened at once. One, Azazel set a full glass of fortifying Hellfire in front of the Prince and two; the less intimidating salads began to arrive.

Dean had never been so happy to see a piece of fruit in his life.

Gratefully taking his bowl of habanera peppers from the server, Dean pulled the stem off of one of the small, orange vegetables and popped it into his mouth. The hot vegetables were actually to help cleanse the palate between each dish so the flavors of one didn't pollute the flavors of the next but Dean had eaten the things like candy since he was a child and easily fell back into the habit. He could see the Angel Prince eyeing the small bright-skinned peppers and, in a gesture of good will, slid the bowl closer to the him. The other Prince hesitantly plucked one of the little peppers from the bowl, picking the stem off as he'd seen the Demon do, and stared at it for a moment. It didn't smell like much of anything and the brief lick he gave the brightly colored skin yielded much the same result.

"You gotta bite it, dude," Prince Dean prompted from beside him, frowning down at his plate and poking at the bit of kraken tentacle one of the servers had cut for him with his fork. Castiel nodded, mostly to himself. The Hell fruit was most likely like the strawberries that grew in Heaven that didn't smell or taste like much until one bit into them.

A small bowl of Arachnae caviar was placed before him and Castiel offered his husband-to-be his own bit of advice.

"It's easier to cut the skin near where the colors change," he said. "Then you can reach the meat without damaging it."

Castiel watched silently as the Demon followed his instruction, making a happy sound of surprise when the tough outer skin fell away from the moist, tender muscle of the giant cephalopod.

"Huh," Dean said as he cut a piece of the surprisingly fragrant meat. "Thanks, Cas."

Prince Castiel paused with the new fruit, or possibly vegetable, at his lips; _Cas?_

"You're welcome… Dean," he replied at length, feeling nearly every eye in the room upon them but did his best to ignore them.

Perhaps these Demons weren't as bad as his father had made them out to be. He may not have made his presence known the past three days but he had been watching, observing the gathered Demons and noting their behaviors which were nothing at all what he'd been raised to expect. Those attending had been every bit as civilized as the Angels he'd grown up with, in some instances perhaps even more so. There was still the matter of Demons being responsible for the deaths of both of his parents, but Castiel understood War, didn't fault these people for attempting to defend themselves, and the Demon beside him was not the one who had struck the killing blow.

Perhaps… perhaps this arrangement wouldn't be as bad as he'd first thought.

With that thought firmly in mind, Castiel slipped the bright orange fruit between his lips and bit down, unsure of what flavor to expect. What he didn't expect was for his mouth to be set on fire! The Hell fruit's caustic juices burned over his tongue and trickled down his throat, the fumes rising into his nose and seizing up his lungs and Castiel pushed away from the table, gasping and choking but unable to see through the tears in his eyes. He could hear a flurry of commotion around him then large hands gripped his shoulders and Michael's voice sounded in his ear.

"It's alright, little brother, you'll be okay."

"Here, have him drink this," said a second voice, this one of a woman.

A cup was pressed to his mouth, some kind of cool liquid wetting his lips, and Castiel took a large swallow, the burn of the damned fruit washing away to be replaced by the sweetest thing he had ever tasted. He could breathe again and took in a great lungful of air, coughing the last of the burn from his throat as his brother dabbed at his eyes with one of the linen napkins. Blinking open his eyes, the Angel Prince took in the faces of those gathered around him.

"Are you with us, son?" the Demon King asked and Castiel realized that he was helping Michael to keep the younger Angel from lying completely on the floor. His Queen hovered close by, a golden goblet in her hands and, behind her, Prince Dean watched the scene with wide green eyes. Castiel blinked and nodded.

"Yes," he replied. His throat felt like he'd swallowed boiling soup, rubbed raw and protesting speech. "I'm fine."

"Here," Mary held out the goblet to him. "Drink some more of this; it'll help with the burn."

Castiel gratefully took the cup from her and drank down more of the liquid. It looked like cream and tasted unlike anything he'd ever had.

"It's milk from the Aditi cattle Queen Kali of Swarga Loka sent as a wedding gift," the Demon Queen explained.

Castiel had heard stories of the sacred Aditi cattle raised on the nation of Swarga Loka, an island bigger than the kingdoms of Heaven and Hell combined and ruled by a benevolent, but ruthless, Queen. The Aditi cattle were never used for their meat but their milk was so rich it could keep a traveler in good health for weeks, even if they ate or drank nothing else, and remained unspoiled for months.

Once he was breathing normally and had regained his feet, Michael clapped him on the shoulder with a grin.

"You gave us quite the scare, little brother."

Castiel managed a slight smile to ease his brother's mind.

"And myself," he replied. "I apologize for the interruption but I believe I will retire for the evening."


	3. Chapter 3

**Ch. 3**

**Disclaimer: see chapter one**

**Warnings: little bit of HET sex at the end of this one**

"Man, I thought I'd killed him," Dean reported to Sam after the feast, which was completed with little to no excitement after the Angel Prince's departure.

"Me, too," the younger Prince agreed as the two made their way to their rooms for the night, Dean's guards, Crowley and Azazel, taking the lead with Sam's, Ruby and Brady, following behind. "I've never seen anybody react to those things that way before."

Dean snorted.

"No kidding. I mean, I thought the Angels were supposed to be these undefeatable warriors; who'd of thought they'd get taken down by a little pepper?"

Sam snickered.

"I don't know, man," he replied. "I've heard outsiders say that Hell's food can be pretty spicy if you're not used to it."

"Yeah, well, they need it around here," Dean said. "I could hardly taste half of the stuff they put out. That one thing was good, though, with the fruit and the crust… What was it called?"

"Apple pie."

"Yeah," Dean confirmed, "The pie. That totally made up for the spider eggs and that boiled up baby bird… the tentacle thing wasn't too bad, though."

Sam snorted at the dreamy expression on his brother's face.

"Well, at least we can rest assured that you won't starve out here," he teased.

"Shut up, bitch," Dean commanded, swiping at his not-so-little-brother's head. Sam ducked the hand and danced out of the way.

"Make me, jerk."

Dean's wing caught Sam full in the face, making the younger prince splutter and fall back, one of his own wings smacking against Dean's back and sending the Crown Prince pitching forward. Only Azazel's quick reflexes kept Dean's crown from shattering on the stone floor but he'd borne witness to many such good-natured scuffles between the two and easily caught the obsidian ring on one of his wing spines.

Dean eventually trapped his brother in a headlock and was vigorously scrubbing his knuckles over Sam's mop of hair while Sam flailed at him with a wing when the delicate clearing of a throat brought both Princes' struggles to a halt. They both looked up into Lady Jessica's amused face.

"Wow," she observed, grinning as the two quickly separated and tried to look presentable. "I just came to tell you that your parents are on their way to talk to you, Dean, and to see if Sam would escort me to my room?"

"Of course," Sam agreed, offering her his arm. "See you tomorrow, Dean."

"Yeah, night, Sammy. Jess."

"Goodnight, Dean," Jessica replied before pointedly directing her eyes above his head. "Missing something?"

Dean frowned, raising a hand to pat at his hair and swore when he realized that his crown was missing. Azazel helpfully dropped his wing into Dean's view, allowing the Prince to snatch the circlet from the guard's spine and settle it on his head just as his parent's Shadow Guards came into view.

The Devas were a race of warrior demons that lived in the Styx River Valley in the old state of Hades and had guarded the Royal families of Hell for countless centuries; they never spoke and were all but invisible in any kind of low light save for their burning red eyes. Dean had always been kind of freaked out by them but he'd never admit to it.

The Devas melted into the shadows of the hallway, the solid lines of their bodies shifting and fading until they were all but invisible, their ember eyes narrowing to slits as John and Mary came even with their son and Crowley slipped into Dean's room to make sure all was as it should be. Dean had no doubt it would be fine; his hellhound, Bela, had been shut up in there for most of the day after all. He could hear her whining on the other side of the door and she came bounding out as soon as the door was open far enough, heading straight for Dean, all three of her heads begging for attention that the three royals gave happily.

"So, what's on the agenda for tomorrow?" Dean asked as Crowley deemed the room clear and propped the door open.

"A hunt," John replied, giving Bela's nearest head a fond scratch. "It's customary for the engaged pair to hunt down some large animal for the Wedding Feast. Apparently, the larger the animal or more people it feeds the more prosperous the union will be."

Dean arched a brow, remembering the sizes of the creatures at dinner.

"How large is large?"

"I've been told that Michael and Anna brought down an adult Roc for their feast."

Dean could only blink at his father, wondering just how big a bird would have to be to lay the egg they'd served earlier, when the sound of running feet came echoing down the hall toward them. The Devas materialized out of the shadows directly in front of the young Demon, bringing the boy up short. Wide eyes bounced between the stone-faced Shadow Guards and the King as the boy nervously licked his lips, his wings shifting restlessly behind him.

"It's okay," John said, recognizing Jesse. "He can pass."

Jesse had come to live at the palace after his parents had both been killed by a wild chimera, seeing as how the boy had no other family and was much too young to be living on his own; his spines were only just beginning to break through on his wings.

"Where's the fire, kiddo?' John asked as the panting boy slipped past the Shadow Guards and sidled up to the King.

"The High Priestess has just arrived with the Lustrix, Sire," Jesse reported. "Sir Charles asked me to tell yourself and the Queen right away."

Dean winced. In Demon society, the night before the wedding day was when the couple was finally allowed to consummate the relationship, after being prayed over by the Lustrix, a priestess devoted to the carnal aspect of the Mother of All. Usually her arrival was call for celebration but now just the thought made Dean's stomach fill with butterflies. He didn't know what to make of his soon-to-be husband. The Angel had hidden out for three out of the four days they'd all been here and had seemed aloof and a little condescending when they'd first met. Sure, he'd loosened up a bit at dinner but that had been before the pepper fiasco and Dean hadn't seen Prince Castiel since. Giving and receiving pleasure was all well and good but the Demon Prince was more than a little put off at the prospect of sharing his body completely with someone he hadn't even shared a full conversation with yet.

His mother must have caught his less-than-thrilled expression because she turned to his father and said, "You go on ahead, John, before Chuck works himself into a stroke. I wanted to talk to Dean anyway, before he moves all the way to Dis and I can't see him every day."

John chuckled at the thought of the Royal Scribe at the mercy of both the High Priestess _and_ the Lustrix before pressing a kiss to his Queen's hand.

"Yeah, I'll go save Chuck and get the Priestesses settled. Sleep well, Dean."

"You, too, Dad," Dean replied as he preceded his mother into his room, bringing his wings around to unclip the silver chains from the topmost spine cap. He sighed in relief as the five caps slid off of his bottom spines then snatched the still-temporary caps off of his top spines and dropped the whole jingling mess on the end of his bed, stretching his wings out and rubbing at the irritated skin at the bases of his spines. If the High Priestess was here that meant that the other caps had arrived as well; fitted to his top spines by a master jeweler and lined on the inside with numerous spines of their own, once they went on they weren't coming off. Dean started to pace, attempting to burn off some of his agitation before he launched himself out the balcony doors and flew all the way back to Tartarus.

Mary was silent as she watched her son, settling on the end of his bed and untangling the silver chains he'd discarded, waiting for him to voice his mind. Bela dropped down at the Queen's feet, two of her heads resting on her paws while the middle one stayed up and alert, all six of her eyes trained on Dean.

"What was it like for you?" he finally asked, stopping his distracted pacing to brace his hands against a side table bearing an offering of various liquors. "When you got married to dad?"

"It was a little different from this," Mary answered. "Yes, it was arranged, but I'd known from a young age that we would marry and I'd known him for longer than… I'd known him for a long time."

"Longer than two hours, you mean?" he asked, forcing a grin. Mary smiled in return.

"Much longer." They were both silent for a moment before Mary continued, softly, "It's still not too late to call it off, Dean. We can find another way to cement a peace between our kingdoms."

Dean shook his head.

"Nah, this is the easiest way. I might not like it but Dad was right, we need to think about what's best for our people and tying our kingdoms together is the best way, it's just…" he sighed, "Would it kill him to talk to me? Not to sound like a twelve-year-old with a crush but I don't even know how old he is! Or what he likes or doesn't like save for the peppers. I just thought… I just thought I'd have more time."

Mary's heart went out to her eldest as he dropped the ever-present tough-guy exterior and told her his fears, not in so many words but she was a mother and she could read her child's distress in every line of his tense shoulders and fidgeting wings. Pushing the silver chains aside she silently held out her arms and wings and pulled Dean into the comforting embrace like she'd done since he was a baby, cocooning them both in wings and love.

Several hours passed as the Queen spoke with her son and Crowley's eyes were beginning to droop. This place was so boring! Seriously, their two kingdoms had been warring for thirty bloody years for the Mother's sake! What did a Demon have to do to get a little excitement around here?

Beside him, Azazel was standing stone still, keen eyes scanning the hallway, pausing only long enough to glare at Crowley until the Hades Demon snapped back to attention. Like he needed to with the Devas about, those freaky buggers didn't miss a thing. Soon enough, though, the door opened, admitting the Queen into the hallway and signaling the Devas to solidify again.

The Queen and Prince wished each other a good night before Mary started off back to the room she shared with King John and Dean surprised Crowley by asking for a favor.

So, the Prince wanted to know all about his angel-to-be, did he? Crowley could do that.

SPNSPNSPNSPN

"Just lay back, baby," Chastity purred in his ear. "And let me take care of you."

Castiel did as instructed, running his fingers through the pretty yellow, tan, and cream feathers of his favorite bed warmer as she straddled his lap and started working the fastening of his shirt loose. His throat was still sore from the fruit from the very bowels of the fiery Underworld and took a sip of the milk the Demon Queen had offered him, attempting to take his mind off of the past few hours. Chastity was proving very effective in his pursuit, soft and warm in his lap and pressing open-mouthed kisses to his neck as her knowledgeable hands roamed his body. Her clever fingers had just brushed his sensitive oil glands when a knock sounded at his chamber door.

Growling softly and wincing when it grated his throat, he called out, "Yes?"

"It's Uriel, Highness," the guard responded. "I have news."

Frowning, wondering what one of his sister's guards was doing at his door, Castiel granted him admittance. The dark-skinned Angel was one of the few survivors of Queen Ellen's first Garrison, narrowly escaping death after being dealt a near-fatal blow that had rendered him unconscious while attempting to aid Castiel's mother the day she'd been killed. He'd woken several days after the attack and had managed to make his way back to Silver City, bringing with him the tale of the vicious attack, Queen Ellen's sword, and one of her ebony and gold plumes. Too injured to return to the front lines, Uriel had been promoted to the rank of Archangel and become Joanna's chief body-guard, charged with the task of teaching the Princess to fight.

"What news?" the Prince asked after taking another sip of the Aditi milk, sliding his hand up Chastity's smooth thigh to cup her shapely backside as she wiggled in his lap.

"The _Demons_," Uriel replied, nearly spitting out the word as though it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"What of them?" he asked.

"I overheard them talking, my Prince. It seems they were most amused by your reaction at the banquet."

Chastity giggled against his collarbone and Castiel narrowed his eyes at her in good-natured warning, she only grinned, unrepentant.

"It appears that a great many were amused by my reaction," he replied, giving the female's rump a lusty pinch, gaining a shriek and another bout of well-placed wiggling.

"That may be," the other Angel agreed. "But there is a difference between that," he inclined his head at the enthusiastic Chastity slowly working her way down Castiel's body, "And boasting of taking down Heaven's army with a simple vegetable."

"It had to have been made in jest," Castiel responded, breath hitching as the blonde on his lap began unlacing his pants.

"That may be," Uriel said. "But I beg of you to use caution, my Prince. I would hate for a wish for peace to blind you as it did your mother."

Castiel paused, remembering how, at nine years old, he'd listened to his mother telling one of her trusted Lieutenants of how she planned to meet a Demon who wished for peace and try to build a treaty before Zachariah destroyed both of their worlds. She'd flown out that next day and never come back, only Uriel returned bearing tales of ambush and betrayal. His hand tightened in Chastity's blonde locks, halting her progress momentarily as he gave the Archangel his full attention.

"Rest assured that my eyes are wide open," he said. "I don't intend to end up like either of my parents."

"I meant no disrespect," Uriel stated, bowing low to hide the grin he could feel curving his lips.

"And I don't see it as such," the Prince assured then glanced to the pouting female in his grasp. "But I did have more pleasurable pursuits in mind for tonight."

"I'll leave you to it," Uriel said, with another brief bow before slipping out of the door. His superior would be pleased with tonight's work. Their true King had worked too hard to have Hell slip from their grasp because Michael was a soft-hearted fool like his mother.

Castiel allowed Chastity to slip from his grasp and return to her pursuits but his mind was whirling. There was something off about the whole thing and a voice that sounded very much like his mother's whispered to him to gather from all sides, not just those that sought him out.

"Gabriel," he called to his guard. Both Gabriel and Lucifer were members of the elite Archangel Garrison and, most importantly, had kept council with Queen Ellen without King Zachariah's knowledge.

The shorter of the two Arch's slipped into the room and allowed his appreciative gaze to sweep over the female's form.

"I appreciate the offer, Castiel, don't get me wrong. But these office relationships… they never work out then things just get awkward and one of us will have to quit…"

"I have a request," Castiel interrupted Gabriel's cheeky monologue.

"Anything for you, boss," the Archangel drawled.

"The Demons, I want you to learn all you can from them, about them, and about Dean in particular."

"Can do," Gabriel said before slipping out the door and Castiel allowed his head to fall back, a harsh groan escaping him as Chastity finally stopped her teasing and took the aching flesh between his legs into her mouth.


	4. Chapter 4

**Interlude: Gabriel/Pamela**

**Disclaimer: see chapter one**

**Warnings: contains explicit HET sex**

Gabriel's first thought was to check with the Demon Prince's guards with the assumption that they were the least likely to jerk him around and would know Dean the best, except, when he arrived outside the Crown Prince's door, the guards were gone. Dean hadn't been left unattended, though. A hellhound, one of the big three-headed canines of Hell, was laid out outside of the Prince's door, the center head staring straight at the Archangel with jet black eyes.

"Nice doggy," Gabriel coaxed, holding out a friendly hand. The hound raised a second head in response, curling both sets of lips back from two jaws full of razor sharp teeth, a low growl trickling out of its triple throats.

"Wouldn't do that if I were you, mate," proclaimed a voice and Gabriel spared a quick glance over his shoulder, taking in the dark-haired Demon, in the uniform of the Royal Guard, that the voice belonged to. The Demon had one of those cow meat sandwiches in his hand and another couple on a tray. The hellhound's third head rose up and trained its eyes on the guard, and the meat he held, as its tail started to wag slowly but the other two heads held firm, saliva beginning to drip from between the bared teeth.

"Don't suppose you can tell it I'm a friend?" Gabriel asked the Demon.

He took a bite of his burger, making a show of thinking it over.

"I guess that would depend," Crowley told the Angel Guard, one of Prince Castiel's if he wasn't mistaken.

"On?"

"On if you really are a friend. Bit late for social calls, don't you think?"

Crowley took up his usual post on the left side of Dean's door, doing his best to ignore Bela as she inched closer, the nearest head taking up the puppy eyes as the right one bared its teeth at the Angel, her big body brushing up against his leg and her tail wagging faster as she noticed him looking.

"Some guard dog you are," he muttered, dropping one of the burgers which she snapped out of the air.

"Prince Castiel requested information about his betrothed," the Angel replied, eying the exchange. "I figured Prince Dean's guards would know the most about him. Now, do you think you can get the mutt to play nice?"

Bela bared her third set of teeth at the Angel's tone as Crowley took an unhurried bite of burger, chewing thoughtfully.

"I guess it's your lucky day," the Demon said at length. "Because my Prince asked the same of me. How about we make a deal?"

"What kind of deal?" Gabriel asked warily.

"You tell me what you know, I tell you what I know, and I'll get the pooch to back off if you tell me where they keep the booze around here."

Gabriel grinned. "Deal."

SPNSPNSPNSPN

Gabriel wasn't quite sure how he got from the common's room, sharing drinks with Crowley, to the Lustrix' rooms, with the priestess herself, and decided to blame the four glasses of Hellfire the Demon guard had kept handing him. Pamela, the Lustrix, was a dark-haired temptress. Clad in crimson, her long skirts sweeping the ground behind her, she explained to him on the way to her chambers about the Demon tradition of Lust Night, the night before the wedding when a couple was finally allowed to come together fully. She told him that, for many couples, getting to finally consummate was the cause of a good deal of nerves and, to remedy the situation and allow them to come together without fear or holding back, they were both given a special ceremonial wine, seasoned with a few plants and herbs native to Hell. She told him that there shouldn't be any ill effects but, considering how the food had affected Castiel earlier, it was best to test it on an Angel other than the Crown Prince.

She offered him the chance to back out but Gabriel hadn't become an Archangel by being afraid of a drink and he swallowed the draught she handed him.

"Aren't you going to have any?" he asked as he sat, waiting for the herbs to take hold.

Pamela only smiled.

"Trust me, honey," she purred as her eyes swept over his body. "I won't need it."

Gabriel had the sudden urge to stand and spread his wings; to display the chocolate, caramel, and cream colored feathers upon them like he would to a female Angel who showed interest. He knew there was a reason he shouldn't but it didn't seem important and he watched, with satisfaction, as Pamela's eyes darkened at the spread of his wings.

"How do you feel, warrior?" she asked as he took several prowling steps closer to where she stood.

"Warm," he answered, fighting off his rising lust and taking stock, knowing it was important. "Tingly… horny."

She let out a surprised laugh, throwing her head back and baring the pale column of her throat, immediately capturing his gaze.

"Well, it's definitely working," she affirmed. "Is there anything else; any pain or dizziness, nausea, ringing in the ears?"

Gabriel closed his eyes, nostrils flaring as he breathed in her scent, and scanned his body for anything unusual.

"No," he replied. "But there is a part of me going stiff. Is that unusual?"

He opened his eyes, cocky smirk curving his lips, and felt a rush of heat sweep through him at the sight that greeted him. The Lustrix was laid out on her bed, framed by the darker flesh and ebony-capped spines of her wings, completely naked. Her pale body nearly glowed in the softer torch light by her large bed and the hunger in her eyes mirrored the need in his.

"Why don't you tell me?"

Gabriel didn't remember moving, he was standing beside her fireplace one moment and the next he was kneeling on her bed, his mouth buried between her creamy thighs. Pamela arched her back, moaning in pleasure and chuckling huskily at his eagerness. He made her come twice before she was able to get a good enough grip on one of his wings to pull him up her body so she could lap at her own juices glistening on his lips and chin, then her long lithe legs were wrapping around his waist and guiding him into her glorious _heat-tight-wet_ body. He didn't even remember taking his clothes off.

Their mouths met in a deep, frantic kiss, tongues thrusting and retreating, meeting and tangling as he pumped into her and she arched her hips up to meet him. He braced one hand by her head, the other curving beneath her body, seeking oil glands she didn't possess but the bases of her wings, covered in skin like finest silk, seemed just as sensitive because she tightened around him, crying out as she found her pleasure for the third time. Her nails raked through his feathers, several loose ones tugging free, until she copied his earlier motion, reaching around his back and pressing her fingers against the weeping oil glands at the base of his wings. The pleasure spiked, sharp and brilliant in his gut, then he was spilling inside of her with a low moan.

Gabriel wasn't sure how much time had passed when he came back to himself, panting against her throat as Pamela cradled them both in a cocoon of her wings. He blinked a few times, swallowing hard before attempting speech.

"Sweet Eternity," he breathed. "That was amazing."

Her generous breasts jiggled enticingly with her low chuckle, then her wings were moving, pushing the two of them up and over until Gabriel was lying on his back, watching her rise above him and he realized that he was still hard inside of her. Pamela grinned down at his surprised face.

"Don't give up on me yet, warrior," she said, her voice a dark promise that sent fire shooting through his veins to settle in his groin. "This battle's far from over."


	5. Chapter 5

**Ch. 5**

**Disclaimer: see chapter one**

**Warnings: none... maybe some swearing**

Breakfast the next day was an informal affair; Angels and Demons wandering into the Great Hall in pairs and singles as they woke and followed the tantalizing scents of the leftovers from the night before. Bela trotted at Dean's side as the Demon Prince entered the hall, dropping down by his chair as he took a seat next to his brother who was yawning into his coffee. He caught the glint of red in the shadowed corners of the room and knew the Devas were on watch, allowing the Prince's personal guards to join in the festivities as well.

Crowley was there already, kicked back in a chair several seats from Dean, and grinning unrepentantly at an Angel Dean recognized as one of Prince Castiel's personal guards. The Angel was huddled over a steaming cup of coffee, a beverage both kingdoms shared a preference for, his caramel, chocolate, and cream colored wings held tight to his back and his eyes clenched shut. Every so often a loud noise would make him flinch and he'd raise a hand to press against his temples.

Pitching a light breakfast roll at his guard Dean raised his right wing up a few inches, mouthing '_what did you do?'_ Crowley smirked and took a sip from his own cup before answering.

"It would seem that Hellfire is a bit more potent than anticipated."

The Angel slit tawny eyes open to glare at the Demon who only saluted him with his cup.

"Also," Crowley continued. "The Lustrix took quite a shine to dear Gabriel last night. Said something about needing a test subject after what happened at dinner."

Gabriel groaned. Demons were chaste until marriage, according to Crowley. All, that is, save for some of their clergy and the Lustrix in particular. Pamela, the Demon Goddess's carnal priestess, had cornered Gabriel and Crowley in the common's room after hearing how the Angel Prince had reacted to Hell's food. Gabriel had been told that the night before two Demons were wed, known as the Lust Night, was when the couple was finally allowed to have actual sex and, to steady the nerves, a special wine was given to them; a wine that raised the libido and lowered inhibitions. They'd known that the consummation took place before the actual wedding but not all that it would entail. Pamela had needed to know how the herbs would affect an Angel and Gabriel had been more than happy to help her out because, where Demons were chaste, Angels… weren't. But that wine, or perhaps that wine mixed with the four cups of Hellfire Crowley had poured for him as they'd swapped stories and information, and his vigorous activities with the Lustrix had all combined to leave the Angel with the Mother of all hangovers and aching in places he hadn't even known he'd possessed.

Pamela had seemed pleased with the results, though, and had announced that the Lust Night could go on as planned; tonight, as a matter of fact. Gabriel made a note to remind Castiel about that.

Prince Dean and his brother were sharing a platter of tiny frost dragons, Dean occasionally dropping a few to the huge beast at his side when he thought no one was looking, when Prince Castiel finally decided to join them. Gabriel could hear several of the Angel Lords and Ladies who approached the Prince inquire about his health after his reaction last night and Castiel reassure them that he was well before thanking them for their concern and motioned Gabriel over as he began to fill his breakfast plate. He only chose Angelic fare, the Archangel was amused to note, and was silent until Gabriel stopped beside him.

"Were you able to get the information I wanted?" he asked as Gabriel braced his hip against the lip of the table, hungry even though his stomach threatened to rebel at the thought of food.

"Fair amount," Gabriel replied, trying a shelled pom'a gran't fruit, pleased when the sweet Hell fruit began to settle his stomach.

"Then you would know why there are Demons making off with every pillow and blanket in my room?" Castiel questioned.

Gabriel snickered at the look of bewilderment on his Prince's face.

"You know," he said as they made their way back to the table. "If you'd gone to the lectures with the rest of us, like you were supposed to, you'd know most of this. But no, you had to be stubborn."

"I was simply trying to find a different way to establish the peach treaty," Castiel replied.

"Like I said," Gabriel interrupted. "Being stubborn."

He grinned at the glare the Prince sent his way, snagging a handful of frost dragons from the platter the Demon Princes had brought to the table and were snacking from as the Angels seated themselves close-by.

"Do you know or not, Gabriel?" Castiel demanded impatiently.

Gabriel bit into one of the tiny baked creatures, enjoying the rush of cold sweetness that burst over his tongue as he punctured its bellows, the organ in all dragons that allowed them to produce the icy breath the frost dragons were named for and, in their larger cousins, fire. Delighting in the mistrustful look Castiel was shooting the tiny treats Gabriel finished another bite-sized beast before replying, "It's probably for the Nest."

Their attention was caught by the sudden coughing fit taking place a few chairs down where Prince Dean was doing his best to hack up a lung while Prince Sam pounded on his brother's back and the hound danced at Dean's side, whining quietly in distress. Dean caught his breath quickly and waved Sam off with an irritated wing sweep as he took a deep swallow of some kind of bright pink juice, reaching a hand out to calm the three-headed hound.

"I'm fine, Sam," he grumbled when his brother reached toward him again and Sam threw up his hands.

"Fine! See if I help you next time, jerk!"

"Bitch," Dean replied quietly and the ire drained from Sam's face, replaced by an affectionate grin. Dean rolled his eyes and pushed his plate away, doing his best to ignore the eyes he could feel on him and attempting to fight down the blush he could feel rising to his cheeks. Hearing Gabriel telling Castiel about the Lust Night Nest had caught Dean off guard and brought screaming to the forefront of his mind the fact that there would be more than a hunt happening today.

Castiel was watching him; Dean could feel his blue eyes boring into the side of his head. A quick glance up confirmed it, Gabriel's slightly amused look not helping the flush Dean could feel heating his face and he pushed away from the table.

"I'm gonna go get ready for the hunt," he mumbled his excuse and fled the room with as much dignity as he could muster. Bela followed beside him, her claws clicking on the stone floor.

Castiel watched Dean's retreating back, wracking his brain. "Nest?" he repeated then his eyes widened, "That's tonight?"

"Uh, yeah," Gabriel responded, drawing out the sarcasm. "Though I can see how you'd miss it, what with your recluse act all week."

Castiel glared at his guard but knew the other Angel was right. Swearing softly, so as not to shock any of the guests, he grabbed an apple and followed in the direction Dean had gone.

While Angels were generally promiscuous it was considered bad form to know next to nothing about one's partner before hand, especially if that partner was a future spouse. Castiel had a lot to learn about Dean and not much time to do it in.

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

Dean changed into his hunting leathers in record time, ignoring Lisa and the gaggle of maids she was directing in turning his bed into the Lust Night Nest, and slipped down to the stables. Impala, his Nightmare, whickered at him from her stall and he immediately moved to greet her.

Though Nightmare's resembled horses they were more closely related to dragons with clawed front feet rather than hooves, their legs covered in scales up to their flanks and across their bellies, long serpentine tails and two wickedly-sharp black horns curling out of their foreheads, their eyes were usually red but could also be a sulfurous yellow and they had a taste for meat.

"Hey, baby," Dean greeted, rubbing Impala's velvety nose and sweeping his hand up to scratch at the base of her horns. The doe closed her red-fire eyes and leaned into the Demon's touch, rumbling softly. "Ready for a hunt?"

Impala tossed her head at the word 'hunt', letting out a sound caught somewhere between a neigh and a scream, the other Nightmare's bugling back the cry as they reared and pawed their doors.

"Did you have to Dean?" Sam's voice complained over the din and Dean turned to his brother, who stood with Jessica and their parents in the doorway, all four dressed to hunt.

"I can't help it if my girl's ready to finally _do_ something around here," he defended the doe as he grabbed one of her horns, bringing her head down long enough to slip her bridle on. The Nightmare allowed it but shifted restlessly in her stall, long scaled tail slithering over the hay as she waited for Dean to let her out.

The other royals, and the servants who had come to saddle their mounts, hung back until Dean had led Impala out of the stable. Like most dragon species, Nightmare does were more aggressive than the bucks and Impala was no exception; she was the head of the royal herd, cowing her own mother to take the spot, and John had had to remove her sire from the herd to keep her from killing him. She was a gorgeous animal but, when it had come time to train her to the saddle, John had feared they'd be forced to put her down. She'd gored at least four trainers and injured a number of others. Only Dean, the stubborn foolish boy, had been able to get near her.

Boy and beast seemed to share an understanding of one another, mostly because Dean had gone against his parents' strict orders to stay away from the herd while the calves were young and the does were especially dangerous. John had no proof but he was fairly certain his eldest had been present at Impala's birth as well. But no matter the circumstances, the doe was totally loyal to the Crown Prince and docile as a lamb under his hand.

Dean led his girl out into the stable yard, far enough from the stalls so she wouldn't affect the other Nightmares, and let her lead trail the ground as he collected blanket and saddle from the stable boy. Bela dropped down on the trailing lead or Impala would have followed Dean around the yard. As it was, Nightmare and hellhound only touched noses before settling, though Impala's claws dug furrows into the dirt as she shifted restlessly, ready to run and hunt and kill.

She stilled as Dean returned to her side, setting blanket, padding, and heavy saddle upon her broad back. He gave her neck and shoulder a good scratch, crooning quietly as he adjusted the tack, then swept an affectionate hand over her ebony scales that shown like an oil slick in the sunlight as he moved to her other side. Still patting and talking soothingly, Dean cinched the strap firmly around her middle and was checking to ensure that the saddle was secure when Impala rumbled a warning growl he could feel in the ground beneath his boots and vibrating in his chest.

"Don't get too close," he warned whoever was approaching as he moved to quiet the doe.

"She's a magnificent animal."

Castiel's reply had Dean swiftly looking up to see the Angel Prince standing a relatively safe six feet away and holding the lead rope to the biggest damn unicorn Dean had ever seen.

Most unicorns, though strong as oxen, were shy, dainty things. Castiel's mount, though, was closer in size to Impala or the war horses the humans bred, well-defined muscle rippling under a silky coat of tarnished silver. Though most were pure white, silver or even ebony coats weren't unheard of but Dean had never seen one quite this shade and its horn, too, was odd. Just as spiraled and perfectly straight as those of regular unicorns, it was the color that set it apart; less glimmering opalescence and more the dull white shine of bone.

Impala sidestepped impatiently, bumping into the Demon Prince and pulling him out of his perusal of Castiel's beast. The Angel had paid his girl a compliment; it was only polite he say something in kind.

"Dude, what have you been feeding him?"

Dean almost bit his tongue as the words left his mouth, unbidden. By the Shades, no wonder Sam and his mother often despaired of him. Castiel, though, only quirked a grin and patted the huge unicorn's cheek, the animal lipping at his hair in return.

"Chevy has always been large," the Angel replied. "He was sired off of one of our mares by the stallion of a visiting human knight. I'm told I claimed him soon after his birth."

"You don't remember?" Dean couldn't resist asking, playing with Impala's mane.

"I was only two at the time," the Angel confessed.

"I was eight when Impala was born," Dean said, not sure why he felt the need to share that but it was as good a place to start as any. At least the Angel was speaking to him instead of avoiding them all.

"Are we gonna hunt sometime today?" Sam called out. "Or do you two wanna stare at each other some more?"

Dean grumbled, even as his cheeks stained pink, " 'M gonna kill him."

Castiel chuckled.

"I would hate to deprive Lady Jessica and your Mother of his company forever," he said as he swung up into the saddle, his ebony and silver wings resting against Chevy's flanks. "But Gabriel and I played in forests like these as boys, I'm sure we can find something… fitting."

Dean snorted a startled laugh at the look of mischief in Castiel's eyes and pulled himself onto Impala's back, his wings relaxing to drape over her rump, much like Castiel's with Chevy.

"So long as it messes up his hair, I'm game."

He tugged the lead rope out from under Bela who took up her usual spot at Impala's side. The doe shifted impatiently, eyeing the gate that was being pulled open, arching her neck and tossing her head, careful not to gore her rider. It took a brave, or foolhardy depending on whom you asked, Demon to ride a Nightmare whose horns hadn't been capped but Dean hadn't allowed the saws near her, saying that if Impala trusted him then he'd have to return the favor and trust her. He hadn't been proven wrong yet.

The gate was completely open and Impala was prancing in place, eager to run, but in Hell it was the King who led the hunting parties. Dean glanced back toward his parents and Castiel's brother in time to see the Angel King settle himself on the back of a Sleipnir, one of the huge, eight-legged horses native to Valhalla, Asgard, and Hel, the three semi-frozen sister kingdoms that bordered Heaven and Hell.

"It's your feast," Michael replied to Dean's questioning look. "Lead the way, Princes."

Dean grinned, settling in the saddle, then swept his arm out.

"Bela, go!"

The hound tore out into the field beyond the Citadel, all three noses searching for a scent, as Castiel called to Chevy in a language Dean didn't know and the stallion surged forward. Impala let out an enraged cry, like a rusty gate swinging open, at any other than herself daring to lead her herd and lunged after the unicorn, reaching his side in a few strides. At the sharp teeth snapping by his neck Chevy shied away from the doe, allowing Impala through the gate first but quickly caught up. Dean gave Castiel an apologetic look.

"She leads our herd," he explained, "She won't follow."

The Angel smirked as Chevy matched his stride to Impala's, the Nightmare laying her ears back and growling low at the encroaching stallion.

"Then she'd better keep up," Castiel announced then said something in that odd, guttural language that had Chevy putting on a new burst of speed, leaving Demon and Nightmare staring at his backside. Impala immediately followed suit, rearing as her back hooves dug into the earth, her powerful legs propelling her several feet forward, her front claws grabbing onto the ground to lunge that much further.

Soon enough she was nipping at Chevy's rump but only because Dean had grabbed her horns and pulled her head up before she could injure the unicorn, that didn't have the tough lower-body scales of the Nightmares.

"Now, now, baby," he chastised as Chevy danced away from the doe's sharp teeth. "We've all gotta play nice."

She snorted and growled as she pulled even with the unicorn but didn't try to take a bite out of him. The two kept pace with each other as they raced over the open grass after Bela and Dean had to admit that he was impressed with Castiel's mount. Chevy was as fast as any pure bred unicorn despite being twice the size and nearly three times the bulk and the Demon Prince said so, Castiel beaming with the same pride Dean felt whenever someone complimented his girl.

Eventually, the two Princes urged their mounts to slow, allowing the rest of the party to catch up.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 5**

**Disclaimer: see chapter one**

**Warnings: swearing, some innuendo, Dean/Cas UST**

It didn't take long for the other royals to catch up to the two Princes but they hung back rather than joining the couple. Dean glanced back at his family, wondering why they weren't joining him and Castiel, only to see Sam wrap his wings around himself and shoot an exaggerated kissy face Dean's way. Dean scowled and extended his right wing, turning it to point the five spines along the bottom upward in a rude gesture.

"Dean!" Mary scolded. Sam only laughed, the bastard.

Castiel watched the exchange silently before spotting a familiar tree nearby. After discerning that Michael's attention was focused elsewhere Castiel let a wicked grin curve his lips before urging Chevy over to the tree and plucking several of the blue-skinned, apple-sized fruits. Rejoining Dean, the Angel called Sam over as well.

"Have you ever had a sticky fruit?" Castiel questioned. When both Demons shook their heads the Angel handed each of them one of the fruits, making sure to squeeze Dean's several times before passing it to his betrothed.

Dean frowned at the action, noticing that the Angel hadn't done that to Sam's fruit.

"Just hold it tightly," Castiel instructed, "And twist the stem off."

Dean did, glancing at the fruit in surprise when the hard core went liquid as soon as the stem was off. Castiel raised his fruit to his mouth and Dean found himself transfixed by the sight; Castiel's head tipped back, baring his long, pale throat to the light, plump lips tight against the skin of the fruit as he sucked out the juice and Dean had a sudden image of those same lips wrapped around his cock… Swallowing hard Dean raised his own fruit, his tongue dipping into the opening left by the removal of the stem to taste the sweet, green, somewhat gooey juice when, beside him, Sam's fruit suddenly exploded. Chevy, Impala, and Sam's Nightmare, Charger, all startled as the fruit Sam held blew up in his face, spattering the Demon with pulp.

"Castiel!" Michael shouted and the Angel Prince had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at his brother's tone.

"My apologies, Sam," he said to the stunned Demon Prince. "I must have forgotten to compress that one."

For several seconds Dean could do nothing but stare at his baby brother, covered head, shoulders, and parts of his wings, in ropes of sticky green goo. Sam slit open his eyes and blinked dumbly at Dean and Castiel and Dean could not help himself, he threw his head back and howled with laughter. Sam scowled, scraping a bit of the ooze off of his face and trying to fling it at his brother, except the stuff wouldn't let go. Instead of detaching and flying toward Dean the goo stretched out then bounced back to dangle off the ends of Sam's fingers. Behind Sam Dean could see his father and Crowley howling with laughter while Gabriel bent over his saddle, hugging his Sleipnir's neck to stay on its back. The Princess Jo was in much the same state and even his mother and Lady Jessica looked to be having trouble keeping straight faces at Sam's predicament.

"You look like a giant used you for a hanky!" Dean wheezed, clutching his middle.

Sam's retort was cut short as Michael's Sleipnir trotted up to them.

"I know where there's a stream close-by," the Angel King said. "And you can get cleaned up; you don't want to give it a chance to set. Castiel go into these when he was seven, it took us nearly a month to get all of the pulp out of his feathers."

Castiel glowered at his brother's mention of the story, that particular episode had been all Gabriel's fault, but he had to admit that he rather enjoyed the way his body warmed when Dean smiled at him, mirth dancing in his green eyes.

"That," the Demon proclaimed, "Was awesome."

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

Bela had rejoined the hunting party by the stream Michael led them to so Sam could wash off the pulp before disappearing into the underbrush again, two noses to the ground. Not long after, the area was ringing with her barking and snarling and the hissing of whatever she'd managed to corner. Dean charged into the trees, an arrow at the ready and Castiel right behind him but the rest of the party hung back; though they could accompany the couple on their pre-nuptial hunt tradition dictated that only the Princes could bring down the game, except in certain circumstances.

The two stumbled into a clearing after a few minutes of ducking branches and dodging exposed roots and tangled underbrush. Bela was barking excitedly, alternately lunging toward and jumping back from a large cockatrice she'd managed to track down.

Cockatrice were plentiful in Hell and, like most of the creatures of Dean's home-land, were a species of dragon. Roughly six feet tall, the cornered bird resembled a giant rooster, though its wings were leathery and it possessed a long, scaled tail tipped with short sharp spines. It was backed against a small pile of boulders, hissing at the hellhound that danced just out of range of its deadly tail.

"Good girl, Bela," Dean praised as he took aim. He had just let the arrow fly when something large slammed into him and he hit the ground, landing hard on one of his left wing.

"Dean!" Castiel shouted, a hard flap of his wings propelling him into the second cockatrice as it raised a foot to rake the Demon with its talons. Dragon-bird and Angel hit the ground, the cockatrice snapping at him with its razor-sharp beak but Castiel grabbed its head and gave it a sharp turn, quickly snapping its neck. The dragon-bird went limp and Castiel turned to the Demon who was propped up on his elbows, watching the Angel with wide, green eyes.

"Are you injured?" Castiel asked, having seen Dean land on his wing.

Dean blinked at Castiel dumbly. "What?"

"Are you hurt?" the Angel repeated and Dean shook his head. Watching Cas take out that dragon-bird with his bare hands had been way hotter than killing something had any right to be.

"No," the Demon Prince finally replied. "I'm fine. Landed on my wing but it's no big deal."

Castiel watched Dean stand and experimentally stretch his left wing, the Demon wincing a bit as he did so.

"Can I…" Castiel began, one hand reaching for the wing, then said, "Let me see it."

Dean glanced over at him, eyes questioning, before shrugging and stepping closer to the Angel.

Castiel had to admit to always being curious about what a Demon's wings would feel like. He'd been in battles, even though Michael had tried his best to keep both Castiel and Joanna away from the war, and he'd seen the large claws up close before but never attached to a living Demon - Zachariah had been… fond of taking trophies. The silver-capped spines of the old King of Hell had adorned the back of his father's throne for over twenty years, right up until Zachariah's death. Michael's first order as King had been to have them removed and, as part of his attempt to come to a peace with Hell, had them returned to Hell's capitol, Tartarus, with full funerary rites and honors. Castiel was more than a little ashamed to admit that it'd only just hit him that those spines had been pieces of Dean's grandfather.

"Cas?" Dean asked, drawing the Angel out of his macabre musings. He blinked before settling his gaze on Dean's face.

"My apologies," he said, blue eyes moving to Dean's outstretched wing. "Where does it hurt?"

"Well, I landed on the first two fingers," Dean replied, fanning the wing, "And I jarred the base joint when I hit the ground."

Castiel took a moment to study the spots Dean indicated. Demon wings were structured differently than Angel wings, having more bones and joints that gave them a wider range of motion. Castiel, for example, would never have been able to turn his wing like Dean had when insulting his brother without dislocating it first and Angels couldn't wrap themselves in their own wings the way that Demons could.

Dean's stomach fluttered as Castiel ran curious fingers along the long bones Dean had landed on, mapping the bones beneath the soft skin, searching for any breaks or fractures. There were a few tender spots but mostly Dean was focused on the Angel Prince's hands on his wings, stroking the outline of bone, softly petting the fleshy membrane stretched between them before sweeping up to curl a loose fist around Dean's top spine as Castiel's other hand brushed along the wing to settle on the base joint, where the wing attached to Dean's back, between and a little below his shoulder blades. Dean shivered, biting back a moan as Castiel's fingers gently prodded the joint, over his clothes but inadvertently finding an erogenous spot shared by most Demons nonetheless.

Touching Dean's wing was like touching living velvet, soft as newborn down, but Castiel could feel the strength coiled in the muscles tensing and shifting beneath his curious fingers. Dean didn't object to his exploring so Castiel slid one hand up to loosely grip the large claw at the top of Dean's wing. The Angel had been in battles with Demons before and had seen the damage those claws could inflict first hand, had seen Hell's warriors curl their wings in a way Angels never could and drive all six of their spikes into an opponent's body. It was a show of trust for Dean to allow Castiel so close to his wings and a show of the same on Castiel's part to willingly come so close. The Angel slowly slid his other hand along the large, main bone blown to the base joint at Dean's back, gently probing the muscle over the cover of Dean's leather hunting jacket, and the Demon shuddered.

"Does that hurt?" Castiel asked, lifting his hand.

Dean shook his head.

"No," he said, voice breathy. "It didn't hurt."

When Dean's eyes met Castiel's, pupils large and dark, the Angel understood. Holding Dean's gaze, waiting to be told 'no', Castiel followed the arch of bone to Dean's back again before slipping his fingers through the wing slits in the Demon's clothes.

Dean closed his eyes and groaned as Castiel's long, warm fingers wrapped around the base of his wing, the Angel's other hand still gripping his top claw, the hold seeming possessive now in a way it hadn't before and a sharp spike of want and lust sparked through him.

"Dean." The Angel's voice was a low rumble, his breath warm on Dean's face, and the Demon opened his eyes to find Castiel within kissing distance, the space between their bodies nearly non-existent. Castiel's blue eyes were dark, mirroring Dean's own and the Demon's heart started beating faster as the Angel moved to close those last few millimeters.

"Dean?" King John's voice cut through the moment and Dean jerked back, sucking in a deep breath as he put space between the two of them. Castiel reluctantly released his hold on Dean's wing but kept his heat-filled eyes fixed on Dean's.

"Yeah," the Demon said, his own eyes still caught by Castiel's, "We're here."

Dean was fairly certain he'd composed himself by the time the others joined them but Gabriel kept shooting knowing looks at him and Castiel. Ignoring the Archangel, Dean retrieved his arrow from the carcass of the first cockatrice while several servants field-dressed his and Castiel's first kills of the day. It was Queen Mary who discovered the nest, the fact that a pair of the normally solitary dragon-birds meant eggs slipping Dean's mind momentarily.

Castiel watched his soon-to-be-mate with hungry eyes as the Demon helped his mother gather the dozen or so leathery, football-sized cockatrice eggs into a basket. If Dean had been another Angel, Castiel would have thought nothing of slipping further into the woods with him and finishing what they'd begun but, as it was, he would have to wait for nightfall and the Nest. He wasn't accustomed to waiting for so long when a willing partner was so close but he found the anticipation setting a delicious burn loose beneath his skin. Castiel blinked quickly, making an effort to smooth out his feathers which were beginning to puff out to display his virility to a potential mate… to Dean, as Gabriel slipped through the minor chaos to stand beside him, his wide grin firmly in place.

"Hope we didn't interrupt anything," the Archangel said with a waggle of eyebrows.

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

Uriel sneered behind his fellow Archangel's back as he skirted the edges of the nesting site. _Fool._ More clown than warrior Uriel had no idea how Gabriel had risen to the rank of Archangel at all and was one he would not regret destroying when the time came; Castiel, on the other hand, he genuinely liked and would even mourn but Angelic law dictated that so long as there was a living heir of royal blood that no new family could assume the throne. The citizenry could be persuaded to do and accept much but Uriel doubted that enough of them would abandon their deeply-ingrained loyalty to King James' bloodline so long as even one of his descendants lived. Perhaps his superior could be persuaded to keep Castiel around after Michael and the others had been dealt with, he was even certain that this attraction Castiel had to the Demon would be forgiven so long as the Prince proved himself useful; after all, many an Angelic warrior had slaked his lust with a Demon bitch during the war, but, useful or not, Castiel wouldn't be allowed to outlive his siblings for long.

Bones crunched beneath his foot and Uriel scanned the area. The bile the dragon-birds expelled when bringing up the bones and other indigestible bits of their prey had an interesting effect on the surrounding plant life. Spreading out from the edges of the heap, about a foot in each direction, the plants had turned black. Grass, bushes, trees, though all still alive, were as black as tar and contained something that Angel warriors had used before battle for millennia. Dropping to one knee beside a blackened bush, Uriel plucked a handful of juice-filled berries and dropped them into the pouch that usually contained the stones for his sling, but not today. Unlike Castiel, Uriel had attended the meetings detailing the Demon's traditions and, once he'd heard tell of a pair of cockatrice in the area, Uriel's plan had formed. It was simple, like most ideal plans, and, thanks to the Demon tradition of Lust Night, could be easily put into motion.

Rising to his feet he stepped into Gabriel's line of sight and motioned the other Archangel over.

"Brother," he said. "I've found their leavings."

Gabriel let out a low whistle as he surveyed the spread of blackness seeping out from the pile of refuse.

"They've been here a while," he observed. "We'll have to have a few people stay behind to oversee the burning, make sure we don't set the whole forest ablaze."

"I'd be happy to stay and ensure the destruction of this place," Uriel said and Gabriel blinked at him in surprise.

"You don't wanna keep hunting?"

"I trust our Prince to be more than capable of bringing down something fitting, he's as fine a hunter as he is a warrior."

"If you're sure," Gabriel said, "I'll see you at tonight's feast, Brother."

"And I you," Uriel replied.

He waited until the party had gathered the carcasses and left for new hunting grounds before ordering the servants who had stayed behind to set fire to the refuse pile and surrounding blackened plants before returning to the Citadel. The berries had to be juiced and the juice refined before tonight and he didn't have much time.


End file.
